


Contraband

by asocialconstruct



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Alcohol, Cain is kind of a dick, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/pseuds/asocialconstruct
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a drinking game, princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contraband

“Suit up, princess, you got work to do,” Cain said, coming into their room with a suspicious bounce in his step. Abel looked up from his diagnostics warily. Cain leaned in and snapped the screen off, feinting a bite at Abel’s ear. 

“I’m working—“

“Relax, sweetheart, Red is on R and R tomorrow and Cook doesn’t need you sucking his cock so hard.” Cain pulled a bottle of clear liquid from his jacket pocket and tossed it at Abel, who fumbled it onto the mattress. 

“Tch. Nice reflexes, navigator,” Cain sneered, turning to rummage through his drawer of the dresser. He came up with a shot glass and a bottle of small pearl onions in liquid. Abel picked up the bottle and looked at it doubtfully. 

“I don’t think this is a very good idea—“

“Abel,” Cain said, pushing him over and sitting down on the bed. “We’re playing a game. You break the rules, you take a drink.”

“But—“

“Whine like a bitch, take a drink,” Cain said, smirking and taking the bottle away. He unscrewed the cap and poured the shot glass half full. The sharp smell of cheap booze hit Abel in the face and he grimaced as Cain handed him the shot. He brought it up to drink, but pulled his face away again at the terrible smell. Cain fished a pearl onion out as Abel looked back and forth from him to the glass doubtfully. 

“You afraid of getting roofied and date raped, princess?” Cain asked, popping the onion between his teeth with a squeak. “You’re so easy it’d be a waste of time.” He took the glass from Abel and knocked it back. 

Cain poured another one. “I’m not—“ Abel started. Cain handed him the glass.

“That’s another drink. Hope you’re a slutty drunk.” 

Abel looked at it. Looked back at Cain, who took a pull straight from the bottle. Fuck it, Abel thought, and knocked back the shot.

It burned, oh god it burned, worse than when he and a friend had snuck drinks from his father’s liquor cabinet and kissed in the dark living room, drinking gin until they were stupid. He coughed and gasped, bracing himself against the wall as Cain laughed.

“This’ll help,” Cain said, with a tone Abel couldn’t place as kind or mocking, holding out a pearl onion, dripping vinegar onto the thin blanket. Abel took it and ate with a grimace, his mouth burning and his face hot. The slippery vinegar burn of the onion helped take the edge off the shaky warmth spreading through his chest. Cain took the glass from him and poured another shot. 

“This is awful,” Abel said after another sip and cough. “Where’d you get all the contraband?” he asked, using the glass to gesture at the booze and pickles before finishing the shot. 

“Told a guy he could fuck you tomorrow,” Cain said, watching Abel.

Abel stared, his heart coming up to pound in his ears against the fog of the alcohol. His face was hot and his hands cold, his tongue clumsy and suddenly aware of terrible scar on his lip. “You didn’t,” he said, swallowing around the cold knot in his throat. 

Cain took a thoughtful drink from the bottle, looking Abel up and down. “Tch. You’re so distrustful, princess,” he said, breaking into a wicked grin. “Gave him a carton of smokes. Take another drink.”

“What for?” Abel snapped, fending off the offered glass until Cain was suddenly straddling him and pressing the shot to his chest. 

“For being disobediant,” Cain said levelly, just a little threat in the way he leaned in too close and stayed too calm. 

Abel met his eyes, taking a deep breath, smelling the alcohol and feral energy. “Fine,” he said, taking the glass. He could play by Cain’s rules tonight.


End file.
